


Hold On (I Still Need You)

by lydias_allisons



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, I suck at tags, Missing Moments, Pining, Some Fluff, Some angst, its set in the time between episodes, just basically stydia moments paired with different drinks, lydia is attracted to stiles and she doesn't know what to do
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-10-22 15:45:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10700094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lydias_allisons/pseuds/lydias_allisons
Summary: The upcoming dawn seems quiet, the world dead as they stand on the precipice of something immense in the middle of her kitchen.





	1. Ice coffee

Lydia isn’t sure when she started being aware of Stiles Stilinski's existence. There are so many beginnings to their story that she isn’t sure which one is the most real. Sometimes she thinks, as she lays in bed on countless sleepless nights, that their story started when Allison befriended Scott and they dragged their respective best friends along as the supernatural of Beacon Hills lurked in the shadows. Other times, as she daydreams in Trig, she wonders if their story started on that night where balloons littered the gym and Stiles stood up and told her everything she had worked so hard to hide. Maybe the story started a little while later that same night when Peter Hale stood threateningly above and Stiles laid on his knees next to her, ready to lay down his life for hers. In the shower, she sometimes thinks it really started when as she laid on his bed with red lips and eyes wide with insecurities and watched as he kneeled in front of her with soft, amber eyes and held her hands more gentle than anyone ever had before and unraveled her doubts off her fingers. Then there are those horrible days, those days where her entire body feels like she has a fire spreading across her skin and she has to use every little bit of willpower she has in her to not scream with jealousy as she watches him with Malia. Those days, she thinks that she started the story near its end, too late for the happy ever after. 

 

Then there are times that he looks at her, in the way only he can, with an unbelievable amount of love and admiration, and she thinks that maybe, just maybe their story is just starting, right there in that moment.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**_Ice Coffee_ **

 

She glances at the clock on her phone. It reads 1:36 and her irritation grows. He’s the one who reached out and now he’s late. And Lydia Martin hates waiting. She had to do her hair and makeup before leaving the house and she  _ still  _ made it here on time. 

 

The ice coffee in front of her is almost halfway gone but the sun shining through the window bares down unforgiving California heat, making her take another sip, scanning the parking lot outside the window to see if she can find his beat down jeep that is just one bad day away from the junkyard. No sign. She sighs in irritation and considers leaving when the bell on the door rings and a very flustered Stiles comes running in, plopping himself down in front of her, guilt and panic etched on his face. 

 

She stares at him, raising an eyebrow. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”

 

“Lydia I’m so sorry but my jeep wasn’t starting so I had to run to Scott’s house to borrow Melissa’s but she wasn’t home so then I went to the station to borrow my dad’s but it took a while to convince him and the traffic lights in this town are too slow  _ and I am so sorry _ .” 

 

This all rushes out of him in one breath and leaves Lydia pursing her lips, trying really hard not to smile and some small part of her realizes that this boy has a really weird ability to make her laugh and smile more than she ever does but she decides not to dwell on it.

She takes an exaggerated breath in and pretends to consider his explanation. “It’s fine, I suppose. At least you showed up.”

 

He looks surprised, as if he expected to be given the cold shoulder by her. She understands. Any other day and she would have knocked him down with her queen bee stare but the subject of their meeting lingers in the back of her mind, making her anxious. She breathes in to steady herself and looks him straight in the eye. 

 

“Did you bring it?”

 

He nods, fumbling through his backpack, pulling out a beaten notebook, its cover littered with doodles. She raises an eyebrow at the sight of it and thinks that it’s funny how the contents of that notebook could turn Beacon Hills on its head but yet it looks like his biology notebook, covered with drawings of a bored student.

 

“Okay so crash course in the supernatural of Beacon Hills starts now” Stiles announces as he flips open the notebook. She is presented with scribbles and crude sketches of what look like impossible creatures except she knows that they aren’t all that impossible because she saw her ex boyfriend turn from a lizard back into a high school boy. She knows now why Scott McCall got over his asthma and gained athletic skills overnight. She is very well aware of what Allison’s family does for a living and she knows that somehow she,  _ Lydia Martin _ , brought a psychopath back to life. The last one has lingered on her mind since school let out. She brought back a murderer without any memory of how. And Lydia hates the fact that she doesn’t know much about the supernatural in this town. She’s been dying to talk to someone about it. But Allison was in France for the summer and she would’ve asked Scott but she knows that all Scott wants to do is talk about Allison and she wants to talk about the shadows in Beacon Hills that can’t be human. So when Stiles offered to help, the logical answer seemed to be yes. But now, she’s staring at his notebook, at things that by all science and logic shouldn’t exist and  _ she’s trying really hard not to freak out because science and logic are her bread and butter, but the existence of the supernatural is really fucking with her right now. _

“Lydia are you okay?” a concerned voice breaks through her reprovie. 

She’s realizes that she’s been staring at Stiles’ notebook for too long and now he has a look on his face and it's making her mad because everyone has been concerned about her for the past year. Worried about Crazy Lydia and her state of mind. 

“I’m fine.” She replies out of thin lips. “I’m just trying to decipher these hieroglyphics that are your handwriting.”

He blushes slightly at her comment and for a brief moment she feels guilt at lashing out. 

“Yeah um sorry about that. I’ve somehow managed to have the handwriting of a doctor without getting the degree.”He says it with a strange combination of shame and humor and Lydia’s surprised that she actually has to put in effort not to smile.  _ Why does she not have any control over her face today? _

“It's fine, whatever. Jackson’s was worse. I’ll manage. Now what were you saying about kanimas?

Stiles stares at her a bit. She knows the mention of her ex boyfriend threw him off a bit. He and Jackson had not had the best history, mainly because Jackson was a gigantic ass. She knows why else though. His crush on her has been pretty obvious. Its adorable yet irrelevant. He’s lusting after her, like most boys are. But he doesn’t like her and Lydia is willing to let him think that he does until he comes to the conclusion himself. 

 

He’s still staring at her though and it’s pissing her off. 

 

She raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him. “ _ What _ ?” 

 

He opens his mouth to answer then seems to think better of it and shuts it, looking down at the notebook. Then he looks up again, determination on his face. 

 

“You know Lydia, it’s okay to feel overwhelmed. I get it.” His voice goes softer at the end, reassurance and comfort lacing his words. She scoffs in response and rolls her eyes, looking out the window, choosing to focus on a mom and a little girl, the mother yelling at her for the ice cream scoop that sits in front of the girl, pieces of the cone shattered to the side. 

 

“Lydia.”

 

He says her name like no one else does. It sounds like someone else. It sounds like the girl who he thinks she is, all thorns outfront but rosebuds inside. She finds herself turning her head, locking eyes with him. “I get it,  _ really _ . I felt the same way.” She nods her head and whispers an okay. He nods in return and casts his eyes down again, saying something about kanimas and wolves that would probably make a lot more sense if she actually was paying attention to him but she finds her eyes stuck on that mole by his mouth. His hair’s gotten longer and he’s started putting gel in it, styling it up. She likes it, it makes him look older and less like an easily excitable 15 year old. Her eyes go to his lips before she can think about it and she finds herself mentally admiring the shape of them, the perfect curve of his cupid bow. He licks his lips as he talks and she feels a tug low in her stomach at the sight of his tongue. She wonders what it would be like to lean over and plant her lips on his  _ and wow it’s been awhile since she’s had sex.  _ She shakes her head free of thoughts of kissing Stiles Stilinski, takes a long sip of her iced coffee and pretends to be staring intently at the notebook when he looks up to make sure she’s following along. If she finds herself admiring his fingers as he points something out, well then, that's no one’s business. 


	2. Lavender tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “God, is there anything you don’t know?” He smiles and looks at her with wonder that makes her heart skip beats.
> 
> She smiles in return. “Probably not.” (I don't know why I want to kiss you so bad)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this was originally part of the first chapter but i think it deserves a chapter of its own   
> comment if you like

She finds dead bodies. That’s her new hobby, Lydia Martin: genius, queen bee of BHHS, and supernatural magnet for dead bodies. She finds herself losing sleep and feels that there’s not enough concealer in the world to cover the dark circles that she finds in the morning. Tonight’s no different. Her mom’s not home and the dark seems different ever since sophomore year. She remembers reading about how lavender tea can make someone drowsy and vaguely recalls seeing a box of it in her cupboards somewhere. Her search of the cupboards leaves her empty handed but she has a test tomorrow morning on the Heart Of Darkness and Ms Blake’s tests actually make her think a little. So she needs sleep.

Plus the circles under her eyes are almost as dark as Peter Hale’s soul at this point. 

She grabs her coat, purse and keys, not bothering to change her clothes. A tank and tights wouldn’t be the worst thing to be seen in, considering her list of bad outfits included a hospital gown and her birthday suit. _Anyways_ , she thinks, _it's 4 in the morning. No one’s awake anymore._  
  
She pulls up to the supermarket and walks briskly, pulling her coat tight across her chest, the cold sending a shiver down her back. She grabs a basket at the front, deciding to grab a few more things besides the tea. Lydia mentally runs over the things absent from her fridge. She grabs some salad supplies and some strawberry yogurt, ignoring her mom’s allergy. Besides everyone who knew Natalie Martin knew that her favorite flavor of anything was red wine. She runs her eyes over the shelves, looking for something she could be forgetting, turning the corner absently. She finds herself turning straight into someone’s chest, the force and shock sending her back.   


“What the he- Lydia?” she looks up to see Stiles, headphones dangling around his neck, music forgotten as he stares at her like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.   
  
“Stiles, why exactly are you trying to run me over? She rubs her forehead, vowing that if he leaves a mark, she will end him. When the hell did his chest get so hard anyways? Her pajamas flash in her mind and suddenly her tank top and tights seem trivial and _dear god how come the one time she leaves the house without makeup is the day she runs into Stiles._ She roams her eyes down his body, her gaze lingering on his arms, the ghosts of muscles hidden under his t shirt. His hair looks pretty good for 4 am and _god help her_ even the plaid bottoms he has on look nice on him. She brings her eyes up to find him doing the same thing she had just been.   
  
He catches her gaze and blushes, acting as if he hadn’t just been checking her out, which was funny cause he’s been checking her out since junior high. He suddenly seems very interested in the Fiber One box on his left.   
  
“So… uh what are you doing here?”  
  
She raises an incredulous eyebrow in response.  
  
“What do you think I’m doing here Stiles?”   
  
“Right, I mean like what are you doing awake at 4 in the morning?” The answer to his question seems a little hard to get out so she counters with her own question.   
  
“What are you doing awake at 4 in the morning?” It’s a childish response but she’s tired and wants to sleep and now she’s irritated because there’s no way she’s gonna get any sleep now that she knows what Stiles Stilinski’s bed head looks like. _(It looks really good but Lydia is not going to think about that cause this is Stiles, for the love of god.)_  
  
_(She’s gonna be thinking about this for days to come)_  
  
He shrugs in response. “My dad’s working late and I can’t sleep.”  
  
“Me neither.” The words leave her mouth before she can think about it. Stiles frowns, his eyebrows doing that crease they do when he’s worried.   
  
“Why? Are you sick?”   
  
“No, I just can’t sleep that well now days.”   
  
He nods in understanding. “Nightmares?”  
  
“Something like that.”   
  
She’s not about to tell him that her dreams are haunted by Peter Hale and his hand wrapped around her throat because then he’ll tell Scott and he’ll be worried enough to tell Allison, who’d then worry about her and try to talk to her. And Allison has better things to worry about. She looks at Stiles who’s dark circles are even worse than hers. And the sight of them compels her to say it, “You know, if you can’t sleep, lavender tea has a relaxing and sedative property that helps. I find that it really works.” she offers.   
  
He smiles at her, not his spastic “there’s a body in the woods” kind of smile. The kind of smile makes her chest feel tight and her pulse race. This smile is all warmth and kindness and admiration and she realises that she hasn’t seen him smile like that in a while. Which may be a good thing cause that smile makes her feel irrational. Like when he smiles at her in a grocery store at 4 in the morning and she hears herself ask him if he wants to go home with her and prepare for the english test while drinking lavender tea.   
  
He stares at her, not answering and panic rises in her chest.  
  
“You don’t have to. I just thought that well, I peer reviewed you paper the other day on symbolism and you could use my help.” She snipes. His answer is in his smile, his eyes lighting up. He grabs her basket emptying the contents into his own.   
  
“Come on. If we’re doing this, I’m gonna need potato chips.” He turns to go down the aisle to grab his oil and fat infested snack and he misses her smile behind him.   
  
They end up at her kitchen table, books open and highlighters in their hands, potato chips by his side. She’s put her hair up in a bun and ran up to put on some lipgloss while he prepared their tea. He makes snide comments about the characters and she blames her laughter on the late time.   
  
“So the congo river is also a symbol. It symbolizes movement towards a common goal and that's what the- Stiles are you even writing any of this down?”   
  
“I can’t focus on English Lydia.” He stretches his neck back and gives her a delicious view of his throat and her mouth goes dry. He rotates his neck, moaning a little at sore muscles and she gets up to get a drink of water before she does something stupid. _(like jump Stiles Stilinski in the middle of her kitchen which is ridiculous cause this is Stiles Stilinski.)_ When she turns back he has his book closed and his head on the table.   
  
“ I can’t study anymore. I’m too sleepy.”  
  
“That's because lavender’s an aphrodisiac. It decreases your heart rate and blood pressure helping you relax.”  
  
He lifts his head up and quirks his eyebrows at her. “What? No scientific name to go along with that explanation?”  
  
She doesn’t miss a beat. “Lavandula angustifolia.”  
  
She crosses her arms across her chest and smirks. She raises her eyebrow in a silent challenge, wondering if he’ll take it. He sits up straighter and raises his chin and squints his eyes. “Rosemary.”  
  
She scoffs. “Rosmarinus officinalis.”  
  
He gets up out of his chair. “Peppermint”  
  
“Mentha × piperita”

  
He steps closer to her. “Bay Laurel”  
  
“Laurus nobilis”  
  
He takes another step closer, his long legs carrying him closer to her, closing the distance between them. He’s close enough for her to reach out and touch his face if she wanted to.He looks down at her, a smirk on his face. She looks up at him and _oh_. She loses her breath. His eyes are tired but alive, the light above her making it look like sparks exploding in them. His unbelievably long eyelashes create a light shadow across his cheekbones and her hand itches to reach out and touch them. She wants to be close enough to count every eyelash. She wants to kiss every mole on his face. She wants to trace the shape of his lips with her own. She wants… she wants.   
  
The air around them grows heavy and Lydia feels her breaths getting heavier. His eyes are hooded and he doesn’t seem to notice that how close he is or how his proximity is affecting her. She bits her lip, eyes not leaving his face, the situation seeming strangely erotic. He licks his lips as he opens his mouth to speak and she feels a tug in her stomach at the sight of his wet lips.  
  
“Oregano” The word knocks her back to reality and away from daydreams She shakes her head and raises her eyebrow at his question.  
  
“Origanum vulgare” He stares at her and she mentally wills him to look away because if he keeps looking at her like that she gonna do something that is gonna be really hard to explain to Allison. The spell is broken though when he laughs, stepping back a few paces to look at her.   
  
“God, is there anything you don’t know?” He smiles and looks at her with wonder that makes her heart skip beats.  
  
She smiles in return. “Probably not.” _(I don't know why I want to kiss you so bad)_  
  
He looks down at his feet and raises his eyes at her, making her chest tighten. His voice is raspy when he answers. “ Yeah probably not. You know… you’re really smart. Like scary smart.” This time its her who steps forward.   
  
“You think I’m scary?” her voice is teasing but a part of her genuinely wants to know. Her uncanny ability to find dead people is probably not a good thing. It's like he reads her mind.   
“Not like supernatural scary. But you’re scary in other ways… when you want to be.” he adds as an afterthought, his eyes on his feet again. She takes another step forward, feet moving without permission.   
  
“Do I scare you?” the words come out as a whisper. His head snaps back up, his cheeks filled with color.   
  
“No.” His words are strong, filled with an emotion she doesn’t wanna face.   
  
Her shoulders drop in relief. “Good.” She gives him a soft smile and their eyes meet. The upcoming dawn seems quiet, the world dead as they stand on the precipice of something immense in the middle of her kitchen. She could jump, all it would take is a few steps and she could grab his face and satisfy her curiosity once and for all. She could get him out of her system, wipe it clean and go back to life like normal. Just another boy, just another face. But it's not that easy. She can’t do anything because this is Stiles. This is Scott’s best friend and she knows the disappointed look he would give her if she just used and discarded his best friend like she had countless boys before him. Not when she knows how he feels. Its obvious and months ago his feelings wouldn’t have mattered. No one's would’ve. But now… Allison would be disappointed and she would let down Scott and Stiles would be… She isn’t sure when she let all these people in but now they all have a piece of her and she can’t risk it. And she’s not so sure that she could put him aside. He’s under her skin and she knows that she’ll be an addict after one taste.   
  
So she doesn’t kiss him. Instead she cleans their cups as he watches. And she doesn’t kiss him as he leaves. Instead she sits at her table and tries to figure out when Stiles Stilinski became this important to her. And she doesn’t kiss him when he shows her his grade a few days later, a bright red A in the corner of his paper. She doesn’t kiss him when he sits down next to her at the library and passes her his math homework, asking her to check his work. She doesn’t kiss him _(but God, she really wants to.)_


	3. Hot Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey you wanna see something that’ll change your life?’’ his eyes are alight with laughter. Lydia remains wary though, having been burned by this before. 
> 
> “Stiles I swear if this is another video of a cat dancing to Uptown Funk, I will-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place between "More Good than Bad" and "Galvanize"

**Hot Chocolate  
**

“Can I refill that for you darling?”

“Yes please.” Lydia stretches her neck a little to read the name tag on the waitress’ uniform.

“Thank you Renee.” The waitress smiles at her, patting her on the shoulder before she turns to go.

Lydia leans further into the worn scarlet leather of her booth, shoulders dropping after what seems like forever to her sore muscles. It had been a long day, the voices being insistent, so she drove until she found her car parked in the lot in front of a shabby little diner by the edge of Beacon Hills, that sophomore Lydia wouldn’t have been caught dead in, with a flickering neon sign that said “Open 24 hours.’’She’d sit at the bar but when she’d stood there to order her tea, the trucker with the growing bald spot had stared at her for too long to be okay and she really didn't want to deal with that today.

Because today was a day where she was at a rundown diner at 10:37 at night, drinking tea by herself and trying not to think about how her friends had died and come back and how they now saw dead relatives and couldn’t read. Or about how she now hears voices and knows when people are about to die. And Erica and Boyd are already dead and so are a bunch of other people and so is Allison’s mom and -

She’s thinking about all of this when the bell by the door rings and she hears an all too familiar voice order a hot chocolate, tiredly asking for extra whip cream. She gets up in disbelief and turns to see to a recognizable wrinkled shirt and distractingly messy hair.

“Stiles?”

He startles at the sound of her voice, expecting to run into her as much as she was expecting to run into him. He runs a sporadic hand through his already messy hair,  making it stick up in ways that make her hands shake with need.

“Lydia… what are you doing here?”

She pushes a stubborn curl behind her head, “Here, as in this diner or here as in on Earth?”

He cocks his head. “You know what I mean. What are you doing in a diner at almost,” he looks at his phone, “ What are you doing here at almost 11 at night? With all the weird shit that happens around here, most people don’t leave their houses after dark.”

Lydia raises an eyebrow, “Well I for one, am a big fan of weird shit. Don’t give me that normal shit. The weird shit is where it's at.”  

She doesn’t know why she says this until Stiles looks at her and gives her this smile that makes her heart leave its cavity and find a permanent spot on her sleeve and she thinks “ ** _Oh_**.  _That's why._ ”

He turns to face her, an elbow being blindly placed on the bar counter, nearly knocking over a napkin dispenser. He reaches out to catch it just in time, long arms leaning over the counter causing his shirt to ride up, flashing her with skin. She freezes and stares even after he’s fixed his shirt and is apologizing to the waitress. Her chest feels tight and her cheeks feel hot which is ridiculous because Lydia has seen plenty of boys’ torsos and much,  _much_ more. But she’s struck by the  **want** that hits her at the sight of his skin.

“What are you doing here?” her voice sounds almost accusatory and the way his body freezes tells her he picked up on it too.

“Am I not supposed to be here?” he asks questionably. He looks almost guilty, like he’s going to apologize even though it's a public diner.

“I mean, it's 11 o’clock at night. What are you doing here?”

“I’m meeting my dad here for a late dinner. What are you doing here?”  
The conversation seems familiar and reminds her of them standing in the middle of a grocery store at 4 in the morning, talking about lavender. It was just a few months ago but feels like forever.

She flips her braid to the other side of her face, “I’m eating obviously.”

He stretches his neck to look into her booth and makes a face. “Lydia, drinking gross tea does not count as eating.”

She narrows her eyes at his dig. “Well hot chocolate doesn’t count as nutrition.”

He crosses his arms, “Sure it does. It’s made of milk.” he says.

Lydia scoffs. “That doesn’t count. The sugar cancels it out.”

“Renee, tell her hot chocolate has nutritional value.” he turns to the waitress from before for defense.

She looks at him with kind eyes and love that only comes from watching someone grow up. “Sorry Stiles baby. Girl’s right. It doesn’t count. Not the way I make it.”

Stiles pretends to be hurt, hand covering his chest. “Et tu Renee?  _Et tu?_ ” She laughs and pats his cheek, leaving when another customer waves her over. Lydia watches the whole exchange with humor, gratitude at the waitress for taking her side.

“See? I was right.” she smiles in a way she hasn’t for a while, without sadness and spite.

He shakes his head, laughing, “Yeah, well what else is new?”

Silence falls upon them and she finds herself admiring the way he looks. His lean body and long, long fingers that haunt her dreams. The ones that have her dragging Aiden into a janitor’s closet so that she can forget.

She came here to be alone but now that he’s here, she finds that she doesn’t want that anymore. She wants to sit with him and talk, and argue about how plaid should no way be a staple of anyone’s closet.

“When’s your dad getting here?”

He looks down at his phone, “Probably not for another hour and a half. I like to get here before he does so that I can pig out and then lecture him about his cholesterol without feeling guilty.” She nods, and then makes a decision. She turns back around and sits at her booth, legs tucked in at her side. To her delight he takes her silent invitation and sits down next to her, his long legs stretched out.

Renee walks over, a menu in her hand, and puts it down in front of Stiles.

“I didn’t ask for a menu Renee.”

She looks down at him, eyebrows raised in incredulity. “ _Really_? You been coming here since you were, like what, in diapers, and you think that I don’t know by now that you will  ** _never_** walk through those doors and  _not_ order something?” Her tone is sarcastic but her warm brown eyes sparkle with humor and love.

He smiles up at her like the little shit he is and it’s laced with familiarity, like he’s done this little bit with her before. Lydia sends a prayer to a god she doesn’t believe for the woman who's dealt with Stiles for this long.

“I’ll have a cheeseburger and some onion rings and a plate of fries and a hot chocolate for Lydia.”

Renee nods and walks away, throwing a “I thought so” over her shoulder.  
Lydia looks at Stiles and raises her eyebrows, “Stiles. If I wanted something, I would have asked for it myself.” She lets her queen bee fake sugar seep into her voice, pursing her lips.

He laughs at her, “Oh I know. I just said that they were for you so that Renee wouldn’t lecture me about killing my heart so early in my life.”

Lydia tilts her head. “Well… she’s right you know.”

Stiles shakes his head, his hair distracting her for a second. “Nope, nope, nope. Not you too. I am a growing boy. I will eat what I want to eat.”. He plants his fist down on the table like a gavel.

“Well that’s highly hypocritical of you. You don’t let your dad eat that stuff.”

He shrugs, which with his lean body already slouched, looks comical. “Yeah, well.. He’s my dad. There’s a difference.”

She raises her eyebrow, “Oh? How so?”

The question is light hearted but his response is anything but. He looks at her in the eyes, lips pursed, and his voice quiet. “I don’t know? He’s my dad.” There’s a sort of quiet, barely there pain that laces his words, the kind of pain that only comes from a loss of a parent. She hears it in Allison’s whispers late at night.

She hold his gaze for a few seconds then looks away, eyes fully scanning the diner for the first time since she got there. The white and black checkered floor and the leather seats give her a very strong vibe of Grease. In an isolated corner laid an old fashioned jukebox, a sign reading “ _Out of Order_ ” hanging from it. He’s looking away too, his eyes looking out the window and into the parking lot. The flickering streetlight illuminates the woods across from the parking lot.   
Her crush on him has gotten a little out of hand but she has it under control, despite what Allison’s smirk says. She flashes back to a night a few weeks ago.

_She and Allison laid in bed, sleep escaping the both of them. The night brought them both their own monsters._

_“Lydia?”_

_“Hhm?”_

_“Do you think I’ll ever love someone again?”_

_The question takes her by surprise and she turns to face Allison, shifting her head on the pillow. The moonlight twinkling in through the window behind her creates an eerie spotlight on her best friend’s face, highlighting her elegant cheekbones. Allison’s not looking at her, eyes downcast._

_“Allison, you’re gorgeous. Trust me, you’ll fall in love again.”_

_Allison looks up at her, and Lydia’s surprised to see tears. “But what if- what if I never love someone like I loved Scott?” The words leave her lips in a whisper, teenage insecurities lacing her words. She’s reminded of how young they are, sixteen but so many ghosts between them._

_She lays a hand of Allison’s cheek, feeling the tears. “Allison. Listen to me. You will be fine. Scott was your first love. Its hurts but I promise you’ll get over it. And you’ll meet someone new and feel what you did with Scott, or maybe something more. Everyone has heartbreak Allison but you’ll fall in love again. You’ll move on.”_

_Brown doe eyes blink at her in the darkness, tears reflecting the moonlight. “Will you ever love someone else like you loved Jackson?”_

_The question catches her off guard. Her wound with Jackson healed without her noticing. There’s no pain just some shame. Though the emotional scars he left haunt her some nights._

_“No  I won’t. I’ll love someone better.”_  
Because she’s Lydia Martin and she deserves the best. Allison smiles, her dimples faint on her cheeks. Her voice is teasing when she asks, “Lydia? Do you have your eye on someone besides Aiden?” Her eyes squint in mischief.   
She’s about to say no when an image of Stiles flashes through her mind and she stops cold. She hasn’t told Allison about her maybe feelings for Stiles yet mainly because she isn’t sure what those feelings are and she’s determined to ignore them. Her hesitation must speak volumes though as Allison chuckles.

 _“Don’t worry. He still likes you.” she says rolling onto her back. Lydia scoffs._  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
Allison laughs with her eyes closed and Lydia’s struck for a second by her eternal beauty. 

_“ **Sure** you don’t Lyds.”_

He stares at the woods as she stares at him, marveling at his beauty. Her eyes roamed hungrily over his hair to his eyelashes that create flickering shadows over his cheekbones, cheekbones that lead to beautiful lips, lips that she remembers all too clearly kissing. The memory of how they felt haunts her on sleepless nights. She remembers how soft they were, how eternal it felt to hold his face under her hand,  her thumb caressing his cheeks. She remembers how the dirty locker room floor felt under her knees, his ragged breathing echoing in her ears. Suddenly she’s all too aware of the fact that she  _kissed_ Stiles Stilinski and that they never talked about it.

She’s boggling over this absurd fact when Stiles suddenly turns towards her, mischief in his eyes.

“Hey you wanna see something that’ll change your life?’’ his eyes are alight with laughter. Lydia remains wary though, having been burned by this before.

“Stiles I swear if this is another video of a cat dancing to Uptown Funk, I will-”

“First off, the fact that you perceive that as an annoyance instead of the most wonderful thing in the world is beyond me but I promise this isn’t that.” He pulls out his phone and hastily scrolls through his pictures. He thrusts the phone towards her, revealing a picture of what seems to be Scott when he was, if Lydia had to guess, maybe nine. It's a cute picture but nothing remarkable and she fails to see the point.

“Remind me again, why am I looking at this?’’

Stiles grins like the devil and shoves the phone closer to her. “Look at his feet.” She drops her gaze and audibly lets out a gasp of horror, snatching the phone out of Stiles’ hand to look at the monstrosity closer.

She looks at Stiles and then back at the picture, eyes wide with disbelief. In the picture stood a grinning Scott McCall, posing against a wall, in all his 90’s glory, his feet laden with what could be qualified as the world’s worst pair of Crocs ever. She stares at them, her disapproval for his life choices rising every second, while Stiles cackles with glee. Lydia shakes her head one last time and gives Stiles back his phone.  He gleefully pockets it, shaking his head.

“I know how you feel. I found that picture last year when I was helping Melissa clean out her attic. Scott would kill me if he found out I showed this to you.”

She shakes her head with disbelief once again, feeling a stray curl fall out of her braid once again. “You think a true alpha would make better fashion choices.”

“I know, right? What a fraud.”

They’re still laughing about it when Renee shows up with their food, pointedly placing the fries in front of Lydia before giving Stiles his burger and onion rings. They pause to thank her and she gives Stiles a pointed look, subtly nodding her head towards Lydia before walking away.

“What’s that about?’’ Lydia says, pushing the basket of fries towards Stiles.

“Nothing, really. It's just that when I was a kid, I would confide in her a lot. Something that  _ **I’m completely regretting now**_!” He raises his voice near the end so that Renee can hear it. Her laugh twinkles as she blows him a kiss from behind the counter.  

She pulls up the sleeve of her sweater, it's loose fit making the wide collar slip over her shoulder and expose her skin. She knows his eyes follow the movement and she feels a sense of gratification. Everything with him has changed, but at least this remains the same. He awkwardly clears his throat and looks up at the hanging lights above them.

“So um you never answered my question. What are you doing here?” He cocks his head at hers and reminds her so painfully of Prada that it requires physical strength for her not to smile.

She cocks her head back and pouts her lips in the condescending way she would have a year ago.  
“I did answer your question, just not to your preference.’’ She raises her chin at him, her queen bee smile icing her lips.

He tilts his head as if to say, “Really?”. A year ago he wouldn’t have questioned her past this.  _(But a year ago they hadn’t kissed.)_

“Come on Lydia. Why are you here?” His tone is inquiring but it’s the kind of curiosity that mixes with caring and worry. She hears it in Scott’s  _“Are you okay”_  and in Allison’s, “ _You look tired Lyds_.” on the nights she sleeps at her house, face makeup free, head spinning with Peter Hale’s voice. She’s seen the look on their faces, she knows it all too well after her naked adventures in the woods last year. But she’s tired of it. She doesn’t want it anymore.

“I am here because I need food and drink to survive, or did you miss that lesson in health class?” Her voice is sugar sweet but her tone is clear,  _please don’t pry._  It looks like it pains him to keep quiet. He stares at her and then squints his eyes in quiet determination, opening his mouth to say something. But she beats him to the punch.

“What was Coach yelling at Greenberg for during lunch?”

The change of subject isn’t subtle but neither is the determined set of her jaw, conveying a silent message: _Let it go, for tonight, please._

He listens to it and understands, giving up for the time being.He launches into the story, eventually losing himself in it, laughing while describing the various self esteem destroying insults Coach threw at Greenberg, insults only someone with Stiles’ wit would be able to appreciate. His hands flail as he talks, creating shadows on the table. He licks his lips before starting another story about something that happened to Scott in Econ and she comments something half mindedly and then he’s throwing his head back laughing, shoulders shaking, and the whole world  _slows_ down. This warm, golden feeling grows in her chest as she watches him and her beautiful brain short circuits. Her chest feels tight and her vision narrows down to nothing but him. Him in all his plaid shirt, messy haired glory. A hum starts in her head, his movements creating an orchestra in her mind. All her logic and warnings are gone.All that's left is one word.

 _ **Stiles**_.

She loves him.

Loves him in a way that she’d seen as a child, dismissed as a teenager and found again in a run down diner under a dim lamp. She loves him. And if this is what love feels like maybe she now finally understands why Scott McCall is willing to fight so hard for it.

She loves Stiles. She loves his hair and his hands and even though they disgust her, she loves his endless plaid shirts. She loves that he can never sit still, his hands are always moving, fingers tapping, tapping always on the edge of her subconscious, always there nowadays, always there for her, always present. She loves his lips,the way they look when he licks them, the way they looked when she kissed him, they looked soft, soft, he’s always soft with her, hands gentle and light, holding her to see if she was okay, concern etched onto his face, concern, he worries about her and she worries about him, anguish gripping her chest to see him grab that flare, the flare, the red light illuminating his and Scott’s face.  ** _Scott_**. The war that they’re fighting, the world vs them. People die in wars. Erica. Boyd. Dead. Innocents. Dead. Stiles.  _ **Dead**_. The thought of it makes her chest burn as if her insides have turned to acid. Stiles dead. Her loving someone who leaves her, again. She can’t. It's too hard.   
It’ll have to wait. It’ll just have to. She can’t do it yet. Not yet.

But soon.

The hurricane inside her mind continues and he goes on oblivious. She chimes in every now and then, making smart anecdotes to his stories. Eventually the conversation somehow turns to movies and she joins in full heartedly, defending her choice of The Notebook and scoffing when he says Star Wars. She watches him come alive during their debate.

“Ohh Pu-lease Lydia. Han and Leia are a love story for the books, okay. They are i c o n i c. And let’s be honest here, you probably liked Luke and Leia together when you were a small, naive child. Come on. Admit it. We’ve all been there.”

She shakes her head in disgust. “As if. I knew they were siblings by the end of Empire. It was obvious. I’m surprised no one saw that coming. Well, that and the whole Darth Vader being Luke’s dad. Like come on. Who didn’t see that from a mile away.” She steals one of his fries as she says this, him not protesting on account of his jaw being on the floor.

“No.” he shakes his head in disbelief. “No. Come on. I know you’re like freaky smart but there's no way even you saw the best plot twist in cinematic history coming. Nuh uh.” he squints his eyes in doubt.

She stares at him and shrugs. “ _Vater_ means “father’’ in German. I made the connection.”

He stares at her bug eyed, and she swears, underneath all the disbelief, she sees something that looks like admiration in his eyes. She wonders if this is just another thing he added to his list.

_Reasons to like Lydia Martin: Cinematic Psychic._

They talk more about movies, discussing whether Casablanca or Star Wars have have had more of an influence on Hollywood. Lydia is in the middle of a very heated monologue about why the end of Casablanca is timeless and immensely influential to cinema when his dad walks up to the table, eyebrows furrowing in confusion when he sees her.   
“Hello Lydia?”

“Uh hi Sheriff.’’ She smiles at him and he smiles back despite his obvious fatigue. He turns towards his son. “Stiles. I didn’t know we were having dinner for three.’’ There’s no malice in his voice, yet despite the humor Lydia feels like an intruder.

She grabs her purse, pulling the strap onto her shoulder. “I should go, let you guys catch up. Nice to see you Sheriff.” She’s about to get up when he shakes his head. “Oh no no no. Don’t leave on my account. Please Lydia. More the merrier.” he slides in next to Stiles and motions for her to sit down. Her gaze slides over to Stiles, looking to see if he feels the same way as his dad. He nods at her, in his gaze a tiny plea:  _Stay_.

She sits back down and clears her throat. The sheriff looks at the two of them, a sparkle in his eyes. “Was I interrupting something?’’ His tone is teasing but he gives a pointed look to Stiles that doesn’t go unnoticed by either of them. Identical blushes grow on their faces.

Stiles speaks up first. ‘’No. Nope. Nothing to interrupt here. Just two friends hanging out. Not even on purpose. You know, we didn’t make, like, plans to hang out. We both just happened to be at the same diner and you know. We ran into each other which is to be expected since we go to the same school. And we know each other. We’re acquaintances.Acquaintances hanging out. That’s all.” His voice gets smaller as he goes on, his incapability to stop talking amusing both his dad and Lydia. He scrunches up his face in embarrassment and she smiles, turning towards the Sheriff.

“I came for some tea and Stiles came for some food. Chance encounter.” the Sheriff nods in understanding.

“Have you been here before, Lydia?”

She shakes her head, “No I can’t say that I have. I understand why you would like it though. Its...nice.”

The sheriff laughs. “It’s a bit rundown but it holds some memories. Me and Stiles used to come here with Claudia, his mom all the time.” The new information is surprising and Lydia looks towards Stiles for confirmation.

He nods, looking out the window.

“Yeah uh we came here a lot before Mom got sick.”

A heavy silence follows, broken by the Sheriff asking if Lydia had tried the pie here yet.

‘‘No, I’m not really a pie person.”

It doesn’t matter though as he’s already motioning towards Renee, whose grin widens when she spots the Sheriff. Her footsteps click on the floor as she walks over, smiling at Sheirff.

“Well if it isn’t our unsung hero, Our sworn protector.” she laughs.

“Our batman in blue.” pipes up Stiles.  
“My uniform is brown Stiles.” The Sheriff snorts.

“Beacon Hills’ best and brightest.” adds Lydia. The Sheriff just laughs, shaking his head.

“Renee can we get three pieces of your wonderful apple pie?”  

“John for you I would make it fresh.’’ Renee winks as she walks over to the counter to grab some from the tray.

She places three beautiful pieces of pie down, shaking her head when the Sheriff reaches for his wallet.

“Oh no no, you don’t pay here.”

Stiles perks up. “Oh nice!”

She looks over at him, raising her eyebrows. “Uh not you.”

Stiles looks like he just saw a puppy with three legs. “But-”

Renee tilts her head. “Uh solve some murders like your father here and I’ll give you free food too.”

“ _Renee_! This--  _this is agism in reverse_.”

Renee shrugs. “Call it what you want, but pay up. Teach you the value of money.”

Stiles grumbles as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet.

Lydia laughs, reaching into her own bag to get her credit card

. “Oh sweetie, that’s okay. It was just a cup of tea. I can’t charge you for a cup of hot water.”Renee says.

Lydia smiles at her while Stiles gapes. “Renee!”

“Get a smile as pretty as hers and maybe I’ll give you free food too.”

Stiles shakes his head and looks at Lydia, eyes connecting with hers.“Then I’m doomed to paying for my food forever.”   
Lydia feels a blush start to grow on her cheeks, her lips pursing to repress the smile that threatens to conquer her face. Renee leaves them to enjoy their pies, her shoes clacking on the black and white tiles.

“So Lydia, as you were speaking of the best and brightest, as Stiles tells me, that title belongs to you in school.”

Lydia smiles at that. “Really. Stiles said that?” She turns to look at him but he had just taken a big bite of his slice and is attempting to speak volumes of “Ugh Dad” just by glaring at his father.

“Well, um you know, Stiles isn’t so bad in school either.” Lydia states, making Stiles’ eyebrows shoot towards the sky.

The Sheriff’s eyebrows do the same. “Really?” he asks, turning towards his son.

Lydia shrugs, “Well he has his moments.”  _(Stiles, you’re the one who always figures it out.)_

The Sheriff's laugh is interrupted by a yawn, reminding Lydia of how late it must have gotten.

“I should get going. Its getting late.”

The Sheriff gets up, stretching his sore back. “Do you need a ride home Lydia?”

She smiles at the offer but refuses. “No thank you. My car’s in the lot.”

The sheriff nods, then nods to her plate. “You didn’t finish your pie.”

Lydia shrugs, “Well I’ll just get it to go.”

The Sheriff nods, another yawn wracking his body. “Well it was a pleasure to see you again Lydia.”   
“You too Sheriff.” He smiles and turns to leave. Lydia gets up at that moment, arching her back, stretching her sore muscles. She can feel Stiles stare and she lets out a tired moan, just for her amusement.

“Stiles you coming?” the Sheriff calls, heading out the door.

Lydia looks at up Stiles, and he looks at her and she loses her breath. He looks destroyed, eyes swarming with a multitude of emotions, the strongest being the one four lettered emotion she can’t face on a long night at 12 o clock in a run down diner, with him standing a table’s length away from her. They hold each other’s eyes for a few more seconds, the potential of something great echoing throughout their gaze. An impossible question seems to lace his face and Lydia knows that they could start something wonderfully exquisite that night, if she lets them, because he’s always gonna leave the ball in her court, because he knows. He knows  _her_.

But she can’t. Not just yet. So she gives him a small smile and says, “ Good night Stiles.”

He’s still looking at her when he says, “ Good night Lydia.” He holds her gaze for a few more seconds and looks out the window, his father’s cruiser waiting in the parking lot. He slides out the booth, and strides out the door as she stays put, her legs forgetting how to move. She watches him head into his Jeep, watch him struggle with the ignition and then follow his father out of the lot. She heads out, a moments later, and goes to her quiet house, her mother whispering good night to her as she attempts to sneak past her bedroom door. She takes of the remnants of her make, does her nightly routine and crawls into bed, her mind swimming with the image of how he looked at her in the booth and just three words.

_I love him._

She’ll have to deal with this. Have long talks with Allison about it. But not tonight. 

She has time.

But she doesn’t.

The next day William Barrow kidnaps Kira, then Stiles is gone and she can’t find him and Allison, her Allison dies saving Lydia. Grief overtakes her life and she spends the entirety of Allison’s funeral holding Scott’s hand and avoiding Stiles’ desperate gaze.She finds herself wishing that she had not wasted time, that she had told Stiles that she loved him because now he’s dating Malia and she doesn’t have anyone to talk to because she thought she had so much time left to talk to Allison.

**Author's Note:**

> this is going to be a multi-chapter fic. please let me what you think in the comments


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